Sherlock: Lazarus Rises
by QueenNaberrie
Summary: Now Two-Shot extended and new scenes for "The Empty Hearse" with Lastrade's, Donovan's, and Mrs. Hudson's reactions to Sherlock's return from the "dead". I know others have written versions of this. But this is written in a continuing flow of events starting with Greg and Sally before Greg leaves for the car park and ends with Sherlock returning to 221B. John and Mary added in Ch 2
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note: This is my first time dipping the proverbial toe into the wonderful world of "Sherlock". I come from the land of "Star Wars" and currently have a few multi-chapter stories going in that genre, so this will most likely only be a multi-scene one or two shot to get this out of my system._

_I realize many fanfiction authors have done something similar to this. But I just recently discovered "Sherlock" in the past couple of months and felt the need to write down some of my ideas for some extended and new scenes that I felt were missing from "The Empty Hearse". As much as I love this episode "as is", these are some scenes I wish the writers had been able to fit into the episode but were unable to due to time constraints and artistic flow of the episode._

_Now onto the part where I cover my butt and give credit where credit is due. ;)_

_Disclaimer and Credits: I do not own "Sherlock" nor seek any financial gain from this story. This is purely written for my enjoyment and hopefully the enjoyment of my readers. All the credit for the creation of the original characters for the "Sherlock Holmes" stories goes to the great Sir Arthur Conan Doyle; and all the credit for the modernized, television version, "Sherlock", goes to the fabulous Mark Gatiss, Steven Moffat, and Steve Thompson. "Sherlock" also belongs to BBC in the UK and aired on PBS in the US._

_Quotes from "Sherlock" Season/Series 3 Episode, "The Empty Hearse", script were borrowed from Ariane DeVere's Live Journal page located at the link below merely for a time saver:_

arianedevere.

livejournal

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_Update: If you read this before 1:00pm, EST (NY time), on June 7, 2014, I have since fixed some of my grammatical errors and added a little more detail in a couple of places. It should flow much better now. I beta my own work so I usually come back the next day to fix things I missed in the first couple of read throughs._

Thank you for reading. Reviews are welcome.

**Sherlock: Lazarus Rises**

**Chapter 1**

**(Extended &amp; New Scenes for "The Empty Hearse")**

"You going home, Greg?" Sally Donovan asked DI Lestrade as she strolled into his office and crossed her arms in front of her chest. "You look like you could use some rest. I'm sure whatever it is you're working on can wait until morning."

Greg, who was staring at his laptop screen lost in thought, had his elbows on his desk and was supporting his head with his hands. He looked up at Sally and weakly smiled at her. He sighed. "Yeah…you're probably right." He agreed with her as he turned off his laptop and reached for his coat as he stood up. "I'll see you tomorrow, Donavan." He told her as he started out the door.

"For what it's worth, I'm glad we were able to clear Sherlock Holmes's name." Sally told him as he passed her at the doorway, leaving the rest of what she had to say unsaid but understood between them.

Greg stopped and sadly turned to look at her, seeing the guilt Donovan felt in her eyes. "I am too. It's the least we could do for him…considering what happened." He said with a weak smile and then frowned. "I just wish he was here to appreciate it." He added as they both looked down and Donovan sadly nodded her head. "Goodnight, Donovan." Greg told her before turning and heading out the door.

"Goodnight, Greg." Sally replied as she watched her boss walk off towards the lifts with hunched shoulders.

When Greg stepped off the lift into the dimly lit car park, all he could think about was how much he missed that annoying, but brilliant man who had thrown himself off the top of St. Bart's Hospital two years ago out of desperation when he thought there was no way of restoring his ruined reputation. Greg felt so guilty that he played a part in that…that he entertained the untruths that were being spread about the consultant detective and even considered the possibility that Sherlock Holmes was, indeed, a fake all along. _I shouldn't have believed it. I should have helped him more._

With this melancholy thought, he paused for a moment, scrounging around in his pockets and was startled at the sound of something metal being kicked across the cement floor. Not seeing anything unusual, he shrugged it off and continued with his search until he found what he was looking for…a cigarette and his lighter. He fumbled a bit as he put a cigarette into his mouth and then took his lighter out of his pocket. He had just flicked on the flame to give himself a light when the impossible happened, a deep, baritone voice from the dead projected itself out from the darkness.

"Those things'll kill you."

Greg froze as it took a moment for his mind to register what he had just heard and his mouth went slack as the realization hit him. "Ooh, you bastard!" He exclaimed with joy entering into his soul as he removed the cigarette from his mouth and then turned his head to his right with the corners of his mouth turned upwards into a small smile. He then watched in complete astonishment as the specter continued to speak and started walking towards him out of the darkness.

"It's time to come back." Sherlock informed him as first his white shirt and scarf appeared; and then his face came into full view under the light that was emanating from the ceiling onto his face and dark, curly hair. "You've been letting things slide, Graham."

"Greg!" Lestrade corrected him with slight annoyance. _He's Sherlock all right. The bugger._

"Greg." Sherlock edited himself with his hands clasped behind his back.

Greg simply stared at Sherlock for a moment as he let it sink in that his consultant detective was really standing there in front of him…alive. He sucked in a breath as he lifted his lips to reveal his teeth and abruptly threw both of his arms around Sherlock's neck, pulling him into a tight hug.

Sherlock was stunned and groaned as he not only didn't expect this type of sentiment from the DI, but he was also still quite sore from his beating in Serbia. _Interesting. _He thought to himself as he raised his right eyebrow.

After about a minute, Greg finally released Sherlock from his hold and looked at him with a bit of ire. "Where the hell have you been and why all the dramatics?"

"You know why." Sherlock simply replied as he looked back at the DI with his usual arrogance.

"No, I don't. So please enlighten me." Greg insisted as he continued to look at Sherlock with annoyance.

Sherlock sighed and rolled his eyes. "Very well." He paused. "It was done to save you, John, and Mrs. Hudson."

"Save us from what?!" Greg interjected with surprise. "Moriarty?"

"Moriarty's snipers." Sherlock informed him.

"What?!" The DI replied in surprise.

"Moriarty gave me two choices on the roof that day, either I kill myself or all of you die." Sherlock told him as both Greg's and Sherlock's features softened towards each other. "What would you have done in my place?"

"Oh God." Greg replied, not knowing what else to say to that.

The men simply looked at each other with sentimentality, despite Sherlock's opposition to it. He just couldn't help himself. "What other choice could I make?"

Greg shook his head and he ran his right hand through his spiky, salt and pepper hair. "What a position to be put in." He paused. "I guess in your position, I would have done the same." He squinted at Sherlock with suspicion. "But that doesn't explain where you've been for the last two years."

"Working for MI6 in Eastern Europe and Asia while I hunted down and dismantled Moriarty's network." Sherlock answered him.

Greg looked at him with awe. "I don't believe it. Anderson was right."

It was Sherlock's turn to be surprised. "Right about what?"

"Anderson insisted that you were alive and solving cases across Asia and Eastern Europe." Greg explained. "He even showed me this map with every place he heard of a case that was solved by someone with advanced powers of deduction, claiming that it could only be you solving those cases."

"Hmm. Interesting." Sherlock replied with an amused look on his face, his light blue eyes sparkling.

"So? Was he right? Were you solving cases also?" Greg asked Sherlock with curiosity.

Sherlock smirked with a glimmer in his eyes. "Perhaps."

"Ah ha…so Anderson _was_ right!" The DI exclaimed with delight. "So maybe he isn't so crazy after all, and I can convince the chief superintendent to reinstate him."

Sherlock looked at his DI with confusion and slight concern. "He lost his job?"

Greg sighed. "Yes, unfortunately. Everyone thought he was loony because he kept insisting you were alive. He even started a fan club called The Empty Hearse where they theorize how you could have faked your death." Lestrade then looked at Sherlock with curiosity. "How _did_ you do it? Faked your death, I mean."

"A magician never reveals his methods." Sherlock replied cryptically.

Greg let out a sigh. "All right, Sherlock, whatever. But eventually everyone is going to want to know how you did it."

"Why?" Sherlock said with a smirk as Greg just looked back at him exasperated.

"You know what? Never mind. Forget I asked." The DI came back as he waved his right hand dismissively in front of him towards the consultant detective. "Look, obviously you need something or you wouldn't have come to see me. So what is it?"

Sherlock looked back at Greg almost hurt. "Why would I need something to come visit you?"

"Sherlock!"

"Oh, all right. I do need you for something." Sherlock finally admitted with all seriousness.

"What is it? What's going on?" Lestrade asked him with concern.

"Mycroft has asked me to investigate a report that an underground terrorist cell is going to cause a major terror strike somewhere in London. There will obviously be a bomb involved so I am going to need police bomb disposal available when it's found." Sherlock educated him.

Greg nodded and looked back at Sherlock with concern. "Of course. Do you know when this might happen?"

"No, not yet." Sherlock admitted. "I haven't had time to investigate anything yet." He paused as he looked down and then up at Greg. "I needed to re-enter London and reveal myself to all those who were close to me."

"Have you seen John yet?" Greg asked with concern.

Sherlock acted nervous and sad at the same time. "Yes."

"And?" The DI asked.

"He's angry with me. Attacked me three times and we got thrown out of three eating establishments." Sherlock pointed to his lip with disappointment. "That's where this split lip came from."

Greg sighed and shook his head. "Well, can't say I can blame him. If I wasn't so happy to see you, I would have punched you too." He said with a serious look on his face before smiling at Sherlock with a twinkle in his eye. He patted Sherlock's left arm, seeing the consultant detective's disappointment in John's rejection of him. "I'm sure he will forgive you, Sherlock, once he cools off and realizes he has a chance to have you back in his life again. He's really missed you. We all have."

The corners of Sherlock's mouth went up in a sad smile in response, not willing to tarnish his reputation as a self-declared "high-functioning sociopath" by admitting that he, too, missed everyone.

Greg, knowing Sherlock, saw this just as an awkward yet comfortable silence passed between them. Greg then clapped and rubbed his hands together. "So, Sherlock, if you need police help, you really need to come back inside with me so all of Scotland Yard doesn't think me as crazy as Anderson."

"But Anderson isn't crazy. I'm alive." Sherlock pointed out.

"Yes, I know _that_…but everyone else inside is going to think I'm loony if they don't see you for themselves." Lestrade explained as he pointed over his right shoulder with his right thumb towards the lift.

Sherlock sighed. "Very well. I suppose I will need to accompany you inside. But I need your discretion until I can go see Mrs. Hudson. She is the last one I need to visit. But after tonight you can announce my return to the media."

"Of course, it won't be announced until tomorrow morning." Greg assured Sherlock as he stepped back and motioned for Sherlock to go ahead of him with his right hand. "Shall we?"

"Of course." Sherlock replied as both men started walking towards the lift.

When the lift doors opened into the Scotland Yard offices, the PC on duty at the desk near the door gawked at Sherlock and turned pale as both he and Lestrade stepped off of the lift, the chip he was about to eat falling to the desk. "You can close your mouth, Brown, he's real." Lestrade informed the poor, young officer as they walked by.

Sherlock simply smirked at the PC as he followed Greg through the offices where they both heard a series of gasps and items dropping as they went by. When they reached Sally's cubicle, she had her back to them so she didn't see their approach. Greg motioned for Sherlock to stay just out of view while he broke the news of Sherlock's "resurrection" to her, which Sherlock complied by ducking behind the cubicle wall.

"Donovan." Greg addressed her, causing her to turn around in surprise. She got to her feet and turned towards him, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

"Greg, I thought you were going home?" Sally asked as she suddenly realized that Lestrade was in much better spirits than when he left only a few minutes ago. "You look happy. What happened?" She asked with a confused look on her face.

Greg's brown eyes sparkled with excitement as he smiled. "You're never going to believe who I ran into in the car park."

Sally looked at him confused. "Who?"

Before Greg could answer, Sherlock stepped out from behind the cubicle wall so Sally could see him. "Hello, Donovan."

Sally's jaw dropped as her arms dropped to her sides. She then got a disgusted look on her face. "What?! How is _that_ possible?!" She asked with annoyance as she pointed at Sherlock and turned to look at Greg hoping for answers. Greg simply shrugged his shoulders and laughed.

"Now you have your witnesses, Lestrade. Ta. Gotta dash." Sherlock declared and left with a swirl of his long, dark coat.

"Freak!" Donovan shouted after him as she put her right hand on her hip and watched his retreating back with loathing.

ooOoo

During the entire cab ride to Baker Street, the cabbie kept giving Sherlock odd looks through the rear view mirror. Sherlock had done nothing to disguise his appearance and the fact that he had requested to go to 221B Baker Street had done nothing to alleviate the cabbie's growing suspicions about his passenger.

"Hey, uh, are you related to that guy…you know that detective that killed himself a couple years back?" The cabbie finally asked Sherlock.

Sherlock merely sighed and looked out the passenger side window. "Perhaps."

"You look like him." The cabbie replied.

Sherlock smirked as he continued to look out the window. "Yes."

"It's good news, isn't it? That he was proven not to be a fake?" The cabbie responded as they pulled up just outside the entrance to 221B Baker Street.

"Yes, it is." Sherlock answered as he opened the door to the cab and stepped out. "Keep the change." He told the cabbie as he handed him his fare through the open window.

"Thank you, mate." The cabbie replied with a smile and then drove off.

Sherlock turned and paused as he took in the sight of the front of his Baker Street residence. The familiar red awning over the door of Speedy's Sandwich Bar, the stone work, and finally he turned his gaze to the black, wooden door that displayed the numbers of his most famous address, 221B, in brass.

With a sigh, he fished into his trouser pocket, pulled out the keys to his old flat, and continued to unlock and open the black outer door. It was dark inside, except for a dim, orange light that lit up the short hallway that led to the inner door. He stepped inside and could have sworn he heard the squeaking of Mrs. Hudson's flat door opening as he reached out for the door knob. He turned the door knob for the inner door and stepped through just in time to see Mrs. Hudson standing in her doorway with a frying pan in her hand. She started to scream.

Sherlock became alarmed as Mrs. Hudson acted like she was going into hysterics. "Mrs. Hudson, it's all right. It's me…it's Sherlock." He tried to assure her as he moved closer to her and grabbed her left wrist that held the frying pan to prevent her from hitting him with it.

Feeling Sherlock's warm hand on her wrist helped Mrs. Hudson to realize the reality of the fact that Sherlock was really there standing in front of her alive. "Ohh, Sherlock. You're alive!" She exclaimed as she dropped the frying pan to the floor. Sherlock released her wrist and she threw both of her arms around his waist, crying into his chest. Sherlock returned her sign of affection and…_sentiment_…as he couldn't help feeling a bit sentimental himself. He really had missed his landlady, and he didn't realize how much until this very moment.

"Yes, I'm alive, Mrs. Hudson. I'm home." Sherlock told her. "After two long years, I am finally home again."

It was with this thought that Mrs. Hudson regained most of her senses back as she backed out of her embrace with the consultant detective and hit him in the arm. "You have a lot of explaining to do, young man. Letting everyone believe you were dead. Shame on you! Did you know that John was here this afternoon to tell me he is getting married? He was so devastated about you dying that he had a hard time setting one foot in Baker Street. We all were devastated. How could you?!" She told him as she crossed her arms in front of her chest and looked at him sternly. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Hudson." Sherlock simply replied. "It was necessary. If I didn't 'die', you, John, and DI Lestrade would have been dead. Jim Moriarty had snipers following you."

"What, Sherlock? What are you talking about…snipers?" Mrs. Hudson retorted with fear in her eyes.

Sherlock pulled her to him and hugged her again. "No need to fear them, Mrs. Hudson. I spent the last two years making sure that none of Moriarty's network could harm you."

Sherlock heard a sniffle coming from older lady in his arms, who he saw reach up with her right hand to wipe her eyes. "Well, you're here now and that's all that's important."

"Thank you, Mrs. Hudson." Sherlock interjected…not knowing what else to say to her.

"Have you seen, John?" Mrs. Hudson finally asked.

"Yes, and I think I interrupted his marriage proposal." Sherlock answered her question sheepishly. "And he's quite angry with me."

Mrs. Hudson's heart melted as she looked at Sherlock with sympathy and put her left arm through Sherlock's right arm. "Ohh…Sherlock. He will get over it. You'll see. He loves you, you know."

Sherlock looked down at her with surprise. "He told you that?"

She shook her head. "No, not in so many words. But you notice these things." Sherlock smiled as his heart warmed. He sighed as he then looked up the stairs that led to their…his flat. Following Sherlock's gaze, Mrs. Hudson knew the question that Sherlock wanted to ask before he could ask it. "I didn't let it out and all your things are still up there. I even dusted today after John left. It was just so dusty, I couldn't help myself."

Sherlock smiled down at his landlady again. "Just in time for me to come home."

Mrs. Hudson laughed. "But I thought you didn't like me dusting?"

Sherlock also laughed. "I don't…but it's ok...just this one time."

"I'm glad to hear it." Mrs. Hudson answered him with a joyful smile and a twinkle in her eyes. "You can go up now. I'll fix you a cuppa and make you some dinner. You look half starved, Sherlock. You haven't been eating right. I can tell. Make yourself comfortable and I'll be up soon." She ordered him as she scurried off to her flat.

Sherlock smiled warmly. "Thank you, Mrs. Hudson." He told her wearily as he started up the stairs. _Home at last._


	2. Chapter 2

_Author's Note: I've been thinking about continuing this for a while and may add more "missing scenes" as I think of them. I hope you enjoy!_

Thank you for reading. Reviews are welcome.

**Sherlock: Lazarus Rises**

**Chapter 2**

**(Extended &amp; New Scenes for "The Empty Hearse")**

A somewhat stunned but extremely happy Mrs. Hudson disappeared into 221A as Sherlock ascended the 17 stairs to 221B. As much as he wanted to deny it, he was happy, happy he was finally home. He paused on the landing leading to his flat and momentarily stared up the stairs leading to John's old bedroom. _"John," _he thought to himself with a sigh as he longed for the days when it was just the two of them against the rest of the world.

"_But it will never be the same, will it?"_ Sherlock reflected as he glanced at the floor in sadness and then back at the door in front of him. He slowly reached out for the door knob with his gloved right hand, turned it, and then hesitantly opened the door. He stepped forward and hesitated in the threshold as he glanced around the flat that he once called home and hoped to call home once again.

Sherlock looked around at the main sitting room, observing how it had been left almost as it had been when he'd last seen it. It had been left almost as a shrine to him. _"Except for the dust."_ He smirked to himself as he remembered Mrs. Hudson's comment about dusting and cleaning it just today. _"Poor Mrs. Hudson. How she must have mourned me as well. How did I miss how much I meant to everyone?"_ He asked himself. _"Because you're rubbish at human emotion, that's why."_ His subconscious answered for him.

Coming to his senses, he then stepped further into the flat and started walking around to observe it closer. The kitchen table was completely cleared and clean, something he was soon to remedy. He decided with a warm smile. He observed the yellow spray painted smiley face on the wall above the sofa, complete with bullet holes; the skull picture; the bull and headphones hanging on the wall above the dining table; and then finally the stuffed chairs in front of the fireplace. He stared at them as he remembered all the good times he and John had shared and the interesting discussions they had while sitting in front of the fire. _"Well, John talked, I didn't…usually," _he thought with a smile as he noticed the Union Jack pillow still in John's empty chair with sadness.

Sherlock suddenly became melancholy as he remembered John's reaction to his return earlier that evening. John was outraged with Sherlock for leaving him behind, for not trusting him, making him believe he was dead for two years, and for forcing him watch what he thought to be his best friend's suicide. _"Why did I think John would be happy and think my return would be clever and funny? Stupid, stupid."_ He realized as he tightly closed his eyes and turned his head away, feeling the moisture form his eyes. When he opened his eyes, he noticed his reflection in the mirror above the mantel piece. _"Am I actually crying?"_ He said to himself as he noticed a single tear trailing down his cheek. _"When did I start being so sentimental?"_ He cringed at the thought as he removed his glove and reached up to brush the tear away, hating himself for it. But he couldn't brush away the ache in his heart so easily. _"I'm sorry, John. So, so sorry. I gravely miscalculated so many things."_

"Here you go, dear." Mrs. Hudson said, breaking him out of his thoughts, as she entered the flat and set the tea tray on the table next to John's chair. John's chair because it will always be his chair in Sherlock's eyes.

As he snapped out of his reverie, he smiled warmly at Mrs. Hudson while she poured his tea into a cup and turned to hand it to him.

"What's wrong, dear?" Mrs. Hudson asked him, noticing the moisture he so wished to hide still evident on his face, as Sherlock just stared at the tea cup instead of taking it from her.

"Mm…nothing." Sherlock lied as he genuinely smiled at her kindness and took the tea cup from her. "Thank you, Mrs. Hudson."

"My pleasure, Sherlock." Mrs. Hudson replied as she took in his tall, thin, yet handsome appearance. She just stood looking at her surrogate son, who had been returned to her by some miracle, with tears of joy in her eyes. "Oh, Sherlock, it's so good to have you back. You have no idea." She admitted to him as she covered her eyes with both hands and started to weep.

Sherlock couldn't help himself. He realized just then how much he had missed his landlady/surrogate mother and how much his "death" had truly affected her. He set his tea cup down on the table next to his black, leather chair and wrapped his long arms around her. "I'm so sorry, Mrs. Hudson. I'll never put you through something like that again. I promise."

Mrs. Hudson returned his embrace with one of her own as she wrapped her arms around his thin waist, crying into his chest again. "It's ok, Sherlock. I know you did what you thought was best. To keep us all safe."

Sherlock rested his head on top of Mrs. Hudson's head. "No, it's not ok. I…I miscalculated how much I meant to those close to me. And I'm sorry, so sorry that I caused you so much pain."

"You never realized your worth, Sherlock. Of course, people care about you. I know you don't like to admit it, but you have a good and loving heart, even if you don't always know how to show it." Mrs. Hudson assured him. "You are loved more than you know…and I forgave you the moment you apologized downstairs."

Sherlock smiled warmly as he looked over her head. "Thank you, Mrs. Hudson. I just wish John felt that way."

At that statement, Mrs. Hudson pushed herself away from Sherlock and looked up at him, hands on her hips. "Now listen to me, Sherlock Holmes. John may be angry at you right now. But, as I told you downstairs, he loves you. He will forgive you. He's missed you too much not to. You will see."

Sherlock couldn't help but smile at her confidence and faith in John's eventual change in attitude regarding what John sees now as a betrayal of their friendship. "I hope that is true, Mrs. Hudson." He sighed. "But he's moved on. He's going to be married. He won't need me around to ruin his happiness with Mary."

"Ohhh, did you meet her?" Mrs. Hudson asked expectantly, thinking it odd that Sherlock actually remembered her name.

"Yes." Sherlock replied.

"And what do you think of her?" Mrs. Hudson queried with curiosity.

"I…I like her." Sherlock answered honestly as Mrs. Hudson smiled with delight.

"She took a liking to you, did she? Despite what you did to John?" Mrs. Hudson asked him with curiosity.

Sherlock smiled at the memory of Mary's promise to "talk him round", as she put it. "Yes, strangely enough she does. Although, I can't understand why." He smiled thoughtfully. "She said she would 'talk him round.'"

Mrs. Hudson laughed. "Now see. It sounds like you already won Mary over or she wouldn't be trying to get you two back together. John must have given her a good impression of you for her to want to help you like that. Just give it some time, Sherlock. You'll see. These things have their way of working themselves out." She tried to assure him as she patted his arm. "Just make yourself comfortable, and I'll be back in a tick with your dinner." She told him as she turned and headed back to the stairs.

Sherlock smiled at her retreating back, _"I hope so."_ He thought to himself as he heard her descending the staircase. _"I truly hope so."_

ooOoo

"John, aren't you coming to bed?" Mary asked as she entered their living room to find John sitting on the sofa and staring into space with a glass of scotch in his hand.

John turned his head to look at her and weakly smiled. "Soon, Mary. I just need a few minutes." He replied.

"John." Mary began with concern as she walked over to sit on the sofa next to him, putting her right arm around him and laying her head on his shoulder. "If you need to talk about…"

"I don't need to talk about it, Mary." John snapped and regretted it as soon as he felt her flinch. "I'm sorry. It's not you."

Mary, with her head still on his shoulder, turned to her head so she could look at him better. "Well, I think you do need to talk about it." She paused as she sat up and looked directly at him.

John sighed. "Okay. Fine. Let's talk about it."

"Good." Mary replied with a smile, seemingly unfazed by John's foul mood. "So let's get to the heart of the matter. You feel betrayed because your best friend lied to you and led you to believe he killed himself. Am I correct?"

"Yes." John replied.

"But he told you why he felt it was necessary. He did it to protect the people he loves most in this world. In my eyes, that's quite…noble and heroic, if you ask me." Mary told him as John opened his mouth to interrupt her. "I'm not finished." John shut his mouth and stared at her, waiting for her to continue. "He loves you. That is obvious."

John rolled his eyes and let out a huff. "Mary…it's not like that between us."

"That's not what I meant." Mary assured him. "I mean…you're his best friend and he is yours. You're like brothers. Closer than brothers, really. Do you deny that?"

"I thought so once." John admitted with sadness. "But I don't know anymore." He finished as he looked away and took another sip of his scotch.

"Do you know what I saw tonight?" Mary asked.

"No, what?" John responded as he looked at Mary again.

Mary smiled. "I saw two men who greatly missed each other. I also saw a man who wanted desperately for you to forgive him so he can regain something that he lost. For two years, he wasn't able to contact you, he was away from London, the city he loves, and the man who makes him feel accepted and loved. And you rejected him. He tried to hide it, but he was devastated, John."

John looked down at his scotch glass with guilt, moving in a circular motion and watching the liquid inside it spin, not knowing how to answer to that.

"John." Mary interrupted his moment of self-pity. "From what you told me of Sherlock, he never really had any friends before you. You told me that he said he doesn't have friends, he only has one. You. I don't think that is totally true; but in his eyes it is." She paused. "John, you told me when we first talked about Sherlock that he was the best and the bravest man you ever knew, and you would have given anything to have him back. You said you pleaded at his grave to stop being dead." She paused to let that sink in as he looked at her with sadness, remembering that memory clearly just as it was yesterday. "And, John, you got your wish, your miracle. He has stopped being dead and has come back to London and back to you. He wants his best friend back, and he has asked for your forgiveness. He sacrificed his life for you and his friends if order to protect all of you. Doesn't that mean something? Doesn't he deserve a chance to make it up to you just for that reason?"

John sighed, swallowing the feeling of anger and betrayal he'd felt since Sherlock showed up at the Landmark Restaurant with that silly, painted on moustache and horrible French accent. He laughed. _"It was quite humourous, in hindsight. And so very Sherlock for him to show up in disguise like that."_ He thought to himself as he set his glass on the table next to the sofa and turned so he was facing Mary. He kissed her on her forehead and stared into her eyes. "Yes, I suppose so. But I'm still not quite ready to forgive him yet."

Mary smiled at him and then kissed him on the lips. "Good. Now that's a start."

"Yeah…well…he's still a dickhead; and I'm still mad at him." John replied as he got up from the sofa and started down the hallway to their bedroom.

Mary smiled devilishly as she got up from the sofa, knowing she was starting to break down his resolve to never forgive Sherlock. She then followed him into their bedroom, shutting the door behind her with some sense of accomplishment. _"I'll talk him round yet."_

ooOoo

By the time Mrs. Hudson returned with his dinner, Sherlock had taken off his Belstaff coat and scarf and was now sitting in his black, leather chair with his hands steepled under his chin, lost in his mind palace. As much as his brother annoyed him, he couldn't turn his back on England and was trying to work out the puzzle regarding the terrorist plot by the "underground network", as his brother called it.

"Yoo hoo, Sherlock." Mrs. Hudson called out as she knocked on the open door to 221B while balancing a tray of food on the other.

Sherlock wasn't so deep in his mind palace that he didn't hear her so he turned his head to look at her as she just beamed at him and set his dinner on the dining table. "I brought you your dinner."

Sherlock smiled at her. "Thank you, Mrs. Hudson. Will you stay with me…while I eat?"

Mrs. Hudson half expected him to dismiss her and the food she brought him, at least that is what the old Sherlock would have done. But he didn't, which was a vast improvement and tickled her that he cared enough for her company that he wished her to stay. "Of course, dear." Mrs. Hudson replied with a smile as she fetched a cuppa for herself from the tea tray she left for him earlier.

Sherlock rose from his chair and then proceeded to sit at the dining room table where she had left his food. "This smells devine, Mrs. Hudson."

"Thank you, dear." Mrs. Hudson replied as she sat in the chair next to him and patted his arm. "It's not much…just some left over soup from my dinner and a sandwich. I wish it could be more."

"It's…fine." Sherlock replied as he proceeded to eat the soup, bringing a spoonful to his mouth, savoring the taste as he did. He did miss Mrs. Hudson's cooking.

Mrs. Hudson smile grew wider as she simply stared at him with disbelief. "I just can't believe it. You back here, alive, and at 221B again. I've missed you so much, Sherlock, even if you did wake me up at all hours of the night with the way you would carry on sometimes." She told him in a loving manner.

Sherlock stopped mid-way to his mouth with a second spoonful of soup as he looked as his landlady with love and smiled at her. "I will try harder…not to disturb you in future."

Mrs. Hudson only laughed. "Oh, Sherlock. It wouldn't be you if I didn't get disturbed once in a while. But I appreciate the gesture." She paused. "Besides…I quite enjoyed your violin music. Sometimes it was quite lovely and soothing."

"Really?" Sherlock replied in surprise. "John would disagree." He paused as he realized what he just said, bringing John's rejection back to the forefront of his thoughts again.

Mrs. Hudson just smiled at him with understanding as she patted his arm again. "You may be right, dear. But I know he missed it too." Sherlock, not knowing how to respond to that, smiled weakly at Mrs. Hudson's attempt to make him feel better. They then continued to enjoy each other's shared company in comfortable silence as he finished his dinner and she her tea. Both very glad at the gift they had of Sherlock being home again.

ooOoo

After several hours of staring up at the ceiling, thinking about what it meant to have Sherlock back, alive, and in London again, John finally drifted off into a fitful sleep with Mary's loving presence next to him. His dreams were a cross between turmoil and joy as he relived some of the cases he and Sherlock had been on. But he woke up sometime later, sitting up straight in his bed, with a cold sweat, as he realized he had just awoken from a nightmare.

Mary was also now sitting up and staring at him with concern. "Are you alright, John?" Mary asked him.

John closed his eyes again, trying to wipe the last remnants of the nightmare he had just had of seeing Sherlock's fall; the blood on the pavement; and his lifeless blue, green eyes staring up at him.

Mary rubbed his back in a comforting manner. "Was the dream about Sherlock again?" She asked.

John nodded his head and then looked over at her with tear rimmed eyes. "Yes."

Mary then smiled at him. "Well, it's a good thing he came back last night, then, isn't it?"

"What?" John asked as he blinked in surprise.

"Oh, don't tell me you forgot already how he interrupted our dinner and your proposal of marriage to me at the Landmark last night, dressed as that silly French waiter?" Mary asked him with a smirk.

"That really did happen, didn't it?" John probed as Mary's grin became bigger.

"Yes, it did. So are you going to go see him today or not?" Mary inquired.

"No." John informed her as he rubbed his eyes, groggily got up from the bed, and stumbled to the loo.

"And why not?" Mary continued to prod.

John didn't look at her. "You know why? Because he's still an arsehole and a liar for not telling me he was alive for the past two years." John told her as he shut the door behind him with a click.

Mary just smiled devilishly as she retrieved her iPad from the dressing table. She brought up John's blog as she sat cross-legged on their bed. _"Oh, you can't fool me, John Watson. You've already forgiven him. You just haven't realize it yet."_


End file.
